Drawn by Boudier, from a plate in Chesney.
Jerusalem, possibly in part to be attributed to the reign of Solomon, are the only instances to which anything like a certain date may be assigned. But these are long posterior to the XVIIIth dynasty. Good judges, however, attribute some of these monuments to a very distant period: the masonry of the wells of Beersheba is very ancient, if not as it is at present, at least as it was when it was repaired in the time of the Cæsars; the olive and wine presses hewn in the rock do not all date back to the Roman empire, but many belong to a still earlier period, and modern descriptions correspond with what we know of such presses from the Bible.
If the slopes of the valley rose too precipitously for cultivation, stone dykes were employed to collect the falling earth, and thus to transform the sides of the hills into a series of terraces rising one above the other. Here the vines, planted in lines or in trellises, blended their clusters with the fruits of the orchard-trees. It was, indeed, a land of milk and honey, and its topographical nomenclature in the Egyptian geographical lists reflects as in a mirror the agricultural pursuits of its ancient inhabitants: one village, for instance, is called Aubila, “the meadow;” while others bear such names as Ganutu, “the gardens;” Magraphut, “the mounds;” and Karman, “the vineyard.” The further we proceed towards the north, we find, with a diminishing aridity, the hillsides covered with richer crops, and the valleys decked out with a more luxuriant and warmly coloured vegetation. Shechem lies in an actual amphitheatre of verdure, which is irrigated by countless unfailing streams; rushing brooks babble on every side, and the vapour given off by them morning and evening covers the entire landscape with a luminous haze, where the outline of each object becomes blurred, and quivers in a manner to which we are accustomed in our Western lands.* Towns grew and multiplied upon this rich and loamy soil, but as these lay outside the usual track of the invading hosts—which preferred to follow the more rugged but shorter route leading straight to Carmel across the plain—the records of the conquerors only casually mention a few of them, such as Bîtshaîlu, Birkana, and Dutîna.**
* Shechem is not mentioned in the Egyptian geographical
lists, but Max Müller thinks he has discovered it in the
name of the mountain of Sikima which figures in the
Anastasi Papyrus, No. 1.
** Bîtshaîlu, identified by Chabas with Bethshan, and with
Shiloh by Mariette and Maspero, is more probably Bethel,
written Bît-sha-îlu, either with sh, the old relative
pronoun of the Phoenician, or with the Assyrian sha; on
the latter supposition one must suppose, as Sayce does, that
the compiler of the Egyptian lists had before him sources of
information in the cuneiform character. Birkana appears to
be the modern Brukin, and Dutîna is certainly Dothain, now
Tell-Dothân.
Beyond Ono reddish-coloured sandy clay took the place of the dark and compact loam: oaks began to appear, sparsely at first, but afterwards forming vast forests, which the peasants of our own days have thinned and reduced to a considerable extent. The stunted trunks of these trees are knotted and twisted, and the tallest of them do not exceed some thirty feet in height, while many of them may be regarded as nothing more imposing than large bushes.* Muddy rivers, infested with crocodiles, flowed slowly through the shady woods, spreading out their waters here and there in pestilential swamps. On reaching the seaboard, their exit was impeded by the sands which they brought down with them, and the banks which were thus formed caused the waters to accumulate in lagoons extending behind the dunes. For miles the road led through thickets, interrupted here and there by marshy places and clumps of thorny shrubs. Bands of Shaûsû were accustomed to make this route dangerous, and even the bravest heroes shrank from venturing alone along this route. Towards Aluna the way began to ascend Mount Carmel by a narrow and giddy track cut in the rocky side of the precipice.**
* The forest was well known to the geographers of the Græco-
Roman period, and was still in existence at the time of the
Crusades.
** This defile is described at length in the Anastasi
Papyrus, No. 1, and the terms used by the writer are in
themselves sufficient evidence of the terror with which the
place inspired the Egyptians. The annals of Thûtmosis III.
are equally explicit as to the difficulties which an army
had to encounter here. I have placed this defile near the
point which is now called Umm-el-Fahm, and this site seems
to me to agree better with the account of the expedition of
Thûtmosis III. than that of Arraneh proposed by Conder.
Beyond the Mount, it led by a rapid descent into a plain covered with corn and verdure, and extending in a width of some thirty miles, by a series of undulations, to the foot of Tabor, where it came to an end. Two side ranges running almost parallel—little Hermon and Glilboa—disposed in a line from east to west, and united by an almost imperceptibly rising ground, serve rather to connect the plain of Megiddo with the valley of the Jordan than to separate them. A single river, the Kishon, cuts the route diagonally—or, to speak more correctly, a single river-bed, which is almost waterless for nine months of the year, and becomes swollen only during the winter rains with the numerous torrents bursting from the hillsides. As the flood approaches the sea it becomes of more manageable proportions, and finally distributes its waters among the desolate lagoons formed behind the sand-banks of the open and wind-swept bay, towered over by the sacred summit of Carmel.*
* In the lists of Thûtmosis III. we find under No. 48 the
town of Rosh-Qodshu, the “Sacred Cape,” which was evidently
situated at the end of the mountain range, or probably on
the site of Haifah; the name itself suggests the veneration
with which Carmel was invested from the earliest times.
No corner of the world has been the scene of more sanguinary engagements, or has witnessed century after century so many armies crossing its borders and coming into conflict with one another. Every military leader who, after leaving Africa, was able to seize Gaza and Ascalon, became at once master of Southern Syria. He might, it is true, experience some local resistance, and come into conflict with bands or isolated outposts of the enemy, but as a rule he had no need to anticipate a battle before he reached the banks of the Kishon.